IVllSSOURl BOT. . 
38 mmEE ci^j^iosTTiEs dj^ longevity. 
that longevity seems to run in families, and 
sometimes appears to be almost hereditary. 
The transmission of the elixir of long life 
seems as reasonable as the inheritance of 
unpleasant tempers or a weakly constitution; 
and allowing a providential exemption from 
the fatal accidents strewn in the path of 
man, why may not the child of one hundred 
and ten years reach the age of its parents 
who perished at one hundred and twenty- 
five? Thus Mrs. Kiethe, of Gloucester- 
shire, died 1772, aged one hundred and 
thirty-three. She left three daughters — the 
eldest aged one hundred and eleven, the 
second one hundred and ten, and the young- 
est one hundred and nine. Perhaps the 
most striking instance of hereditary longevity 
may be found in the case of the often quoted 
Thomas Parr, who died in London 1635, aged 
one hundred and fifty-two, and was buried in 
Westminster Abbey. Shropshire, in England, 
whence he came, is distinguished for its long- 
lived people. Old Parr, as he has been fa- 
miliarly called for nearly three centuries, 
was a farmer, worked at the age of one hun- 
dred and thirty, and married his second wife 
when one hundred and twenty-two. Robert 
Parr died in Shropshire, 1757, aged one 
hundred and twenty-four. He has been 
called the great-grandson of Old Parr. 
R-obert’s father died aged one hundred and 
nine, and his grandfather aged one hundred 
and thirteen. The total years of these four 
persons, in regular descent, extend to four 
hundred and ninety-eight, more than one- 
quarter of the whole period since the com- 
mencement of the Christian era. John 
Newell, who died 1761, aged one hundred 
and twenty-seven, and John Michaelstone, 
who died 1763, aged one hundred and 
twenty-seven, were both grandsons of 
Old Parr. 
The personal appearance of those 
greatly advanced in years is generally far 
from winning. Some, with a complexion 
of mahogany, seem only to dry up and 
wither, yet are withal so wiry and tough 
that they hang on to life decade after de- 
cade, and make a very successful fight 
with the Great Destroyer. Then there are 
others — women more often than men — 
who in the advanced years become 
pursy and corpulent, pale and flabby, or 
perhaps quite fat ; their skin hangs not in 
wrinkles, but in rolls; and their voice, 
instead of rising, becomes gruff and 
husky We have noticed that centen- 
arians are apt to be small of stature. 
Large men and women are more liable 
to the accidents of life, and their organ- 
izations are less likely to be compactly 
knit. Dwarfs have frequently passed 
the five score years, and among others 
may be mentioned one Elspeth Watson, 
who died aged one hundred and fifteen. 
She was two feet nine inches high and 
rather bulky, if one of that stature can 
be called bulky. Two remarkable ex- 
ceptions to the foregoing rule are re- 
corded. James McDonald, a giant seven 
feet six inches in height, died 1760, 
aged one hundred and seventeen. Charles 
Blizard, a farmer, and the most corpulent 
man in his county, died 1785, aged one 
hundred and seven. While referring to 
these monstrosities, whose acquaintance is 
generally made in public, we are reminded 
of two actors who are entitled to mention. 
Charles Macklin, a celebrated comedian of 
Covent Garden Theater, died 1797, aged 
one hundred and seven. And history has 
recorded that eighteen hundred years ago 
Galeria Capiola, a player and dancer, nine- 
ty-nine years after her first appearance 
as a novice, assisted at the dedication of 
a theater by Pompey the Great. Later 
still, when long past the century, she was 
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